The One, The Only, The Unknown
by Ultimate-Fang
Summary: France and Britain are secretly together, but America is determined to make Britain crack. And now with a baby on the way, there can only be one father. FrUK, UsUk. Mpreg warning. Rated M for sexual scenes, violence, and language.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Another Jordan and I tandem write! (I know you guys just LOVE this stuff...NOT!) Just know, I am halfway excited about this. This is my first ever yaoi/lemon attempt. ***shot*** Also, mommy Britain makes a fanfiction debut on my page! ***double shot*** Please don't kill me if it's terrible! In other rowboats, enjoy the story.!

"But Arthur, why won't you come over?" France whined through the telephone.

"Francis, I do, but what will people say? I don't want people to know about us quite yet," Britain answered him silently.

"Arthur!" France gasped, "Are you ashamed of me?"

"No! Not at all! But some people can be so cruel about such things..." He flashed back to a memory he'd wanted to forget long ago: One of cruelty and injustice from America.

_"So, where's your friends at, dude? Can't you just imagine them whenever you feel like it?" America taunted._

_ "They are not imaginary! They are real people! At least Flying Mint Bunny appreciates me! Unlike you after I saved your ass!"_

_ "Hey, maybe if you throw rocks at him his buddies'll come save him!" America halfway ordered. The other countries got handfuls of rocks and began throwing._

"You know I still have a scar from where one hit me!" Britain outraged.

"What does that have to do with coming to see meeeee?" France whined.

"Well, quite honestly, you are indeed a hardcore pervert, and I do not wish to be forced into anything I'm not fond of doing today," Britain trailed.

"You honestly think I would do that to you!"France asked.

"I refuse to answer that question."

Britain's door busted open. There could only be one person who'd tromp into his house uninvited.

"Yo, Britain! I bring you news about how I'm totally going to destroy you!"

"France, I'll call you later. America is here," with that, he slammed the phone down.

"Dude, who was that?" America asked.

"Nobody. What do you want, you twit?" England changed the subject.

"I dunno really...you wanna play a violent and malicious video game?" America asked.

"No, I have errands that I need to run," Britain stood to leave. America didn't move. "Alfred, this is my home" America didn't take the hint. "I am leaving." America still lost. "Get the hell out!"

"'Iight, dude, that's cool. I'll just go with you!" America cheered.

"No, you need to go home!" Britain said.

"Okay...," America backed out of the house in a very creepy-stalker like way.

Britain couldn't afford to let America see him and France together. The two most criticized people in their "friend" group together? That was asking for trouble. No, he would go alone. Or so he thought.

…...

Britain decided a disguise was the best way to get to France's house. He couldn't afford to be seen by anybody that would ask questions.

America dived behind a bush and peered through and opening, "France's house?" Britain looked around the area before disappearing into the house. America ran to the window to spy.

"Francis, dear, I'm home," Britain said as he pulled off his disguise.

"Francis dear?" America was really confused now.

"Ah! Arthur! Decide that you are not ashamed of me?" France was sitting on the couch pouting.

"I told you I"m not ashamed. I'm just scared for you," Britain said honestly.

"What reason do you have to be scared for?" France inquired, suspecting lies.

"I've been teased for all my life. I can handle it, but you're so fragile," Britain now had his fingers through France's hair, "I couldn't stand it if their teasing hurt you in any way."

"Oh, Arthur," France swooped Britain up in his arms and carried him to the bedroom. America gasped and ran to the bedroom window.

France gently laid Britain on the bed and immediately began to nibble and lightly suck on the Brit's neck.

Britain really couldn't admit that he didn't like it, but he gave France a harsh shove, "I told you I didn't want to do this today!"

"Is that so? I must have forgotten," France smirked, "I'm sure I can make you change your mind." France locked his lips against Britain's and skillfully unfastened all the buttons on his lover's shirt. He pushed his tongue past the Brit's lips and began to explore every inch of his mouth.

Once he got the shirt down Britain's arms, France began to leave a trail of light, sensual kisses down his chin to his stomach. Britain let out an aroused gasp as France started to outline the hemline of his pants with his tongue lightly. He planted sweet kisses back up on his stomach and Britain gently pushed on France's head, hoping the Frenchman would take a hint for his need.

"Somebody's getting impatient," he pointed out, "I thought you didn't want this today?" Britain bit his lip in a bit of embarrassment.

"What's this?" France examined the growing bulge in the Brit's pants, "I suppose we'll have to look and find out." France ripped off Britain's pants, right along with his boxers in an instant, "My goodness, what am I supposed to do with this?" France twirled his index finger around the erect head of the member before him.

"Ngh," Britain held back a groan.

"Holding it back, eh? That's not how we do things in this bedroom." France flicked his skilled tongue out and ran it along the slit and soon took his lover's throbbing member into his mouth. The Frenchman bobbed his head along the length and hummed, dragging his tongue around the shaft. Britain arched his back and shoved his needful member more into the Frenchman's mouth. France placed his hands on the Brit's hips and held him down. Britain rolled his eyes into the back of his head and gathered the sheets in a death grip as the put in his stomach tensed up. France noticed his lover's tension and let off his member with a wet pop.

"Filthy wanker," Britain panted. France smirked.

"Why must you call me such names?" he asked, reaching over into the drawer of the nightstand and pulling out a bottle of lube. He popped the cap and coated his fingers with the substance. France pushed one of his digits through the tight muscles of Britain's opening. The Brit groaned at the sudden, quick intrusion and shuddered as the Frenchman added a second digit and started to scissor them against the tight rings of muscles surrounding his fingers. Britain bit his lip hard and he could taste blood. The sheets were being abused by his hands, and his head was pounding from the want to shout and moan for his lover, but too embarrassed to do it.

France removed his fingers and Britain prepared himself for something much more extreme than two fingers. He exhaled and cleared his mind to relax. While doing this, France coated his own member with the cool substance, and tossed the bottle aside.

He positioned himself and quickly thrust into the barely-prepared ring of muscles. Britain's mouth escaped a moan and hissed a little after a while of staying in one spot.

"Bloody fucking hell, move!" Britain ordered.

"My, my. Somebody's getting feisty," France smirked.

"Move!" France pulled outward until only his tip was left, only to slam it back inside the Brit. He repeated this, taking up different angles in attempt to hit Britain's sweet spot. He thrust in again, and this time, receiving a loud, lustful moan of pleasure from the man under him.

"God, Francis, right there!" he panted. France angled himself and thrust in again, gaining another loud moan form Britain. It wasn't long before Britain bundled the sheets in his palms again and breathed in hot pleasure.

"I-I'm going to cum! I can't take it!" he yelled, and released his white semen onto both of their stomachs. France thrust in one last time before climaxing his seed into the Brit. The Frenchman collapsed onto his lover and they clashed their lips together.

America wasn't certain he wanted to throw up or be astonished. He backed away from the window and bolted off elsewhere.

"Just want until I see him next time," America smirked to himself as he ran.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well, I'm deciding whether or not to continue this...it's not getting too much credit for the work I put into it. :/ A little review and some motivation wouldn't hurt you, people! T~T Anyway, here's chapter two. USUK chapter! WOOOOO! (and some sexual misconduct by America-san!) Anyway! _Read, Fave, Review plz? :3_**

Britain bade a goodbye to France and exited the house. He could barely walk because of how powerful France had been, but he tried to cover it up by keeping his cucumbers chill.

"Hey, Britain!" America came from behind the bush. Britain nearly, literally, pissed his pants.

"Bloody fucking hell! What in the queen's name are you hiding behind a bloody bush for!" Even as he said it, his face went white.

"Oh...nothing much," America sighed, now walking side by side with Britain, "Hey, Britain. Can I ask you something?"

"Um...very well," Britain replied worriedly.

"Are you gay?" America asked knowingly.

"What! Absolutely not!" Britain looked down in away to hide his blushing red face, "Why do you ask?"

"Oh. Just wondering. Did you know...," America leaned in as if it were a secret, "that France is gay?"

"Francis? Why, I had no idea," Britain sped up. America fell back and watched him walk away. _(Jordan wrote this next line, btw. Not ) _He so wanted to tap that, and he would, too. Because he's the hero, and heroes always get what they want.

…...

"Bloody hell," Britain shivered at his thinking, "there's no way America knows. Stop worrying yourself." He sighed to himself as he wiped the fog away from the mirror, "Nothing that tea and relaxation cannot ease," Britain wrapped a towel around his dripping wet body and left the steaming bathroom behind.

A strong force tugged him aside and slammed him against the wall.

"Release me at once! Put me down!" Britain started throwing punches.

"Dude, dude! Chill out!"

"America! Get the bloody hell out of my home! I am not properly clothed for you to just barge in here unannounced!"

"Really? I believe your attire is just perfect for me," America smirked and clashed his lips against Britain's.

Britain prepared to shove him away from himself, but feeling Britain's palms pushing against his shoulders, America slipped his nimble, but oddly skilled hand up into the towel and gently drug his fingers along the length of the older country's shaft. Britain gasped at squirmed against the younger country's touch.

"Geez, dude, you sure aren't used to this. You would've thought France prepared you more," America smirked at him once more.

"S-stop it at once!" Britain demanded.

"Are you sure you really want me to?" America gently tugged on the older country's neck skin and left embarrassing marks that Britain would have to explain later, and continued down to his chest.

"Alfred! I demand that you stop this nonsense!"

"You didn't demand France to stop anything," America pointed out.

"H-how did you find out!"

"It's a secret." America continued covering the Brit in kisses. Britain shivered in response as the younger country stripped the towel from his hips with his free hand.

"America! I am not joking with you right now! Stop this immediately!"

The younger country sank to his knees as the kisses continued from his stomach and up the length of the Brit. America circled his warm tongue around the head before engulfing it into his mouth.

"I don't believe you should be doing this!" Britain covered his pleasure with his anger. America dragged his teeth lightly up the older country's member, and continued to suck agonizingly show, much to the Brit's disliking. Britain dug his fingers in the younger nation's hair and grabbed handfuls of blond hair, only to shove him forward to take in more of his now needing member.

Britain couldn't turn back now. He regretted letting America do such a thing to him, but God! How could you turn down such a skilled blowjobist like America or France? He began to silently pant so America would not hear him, and felt the twist in his lower gut. He was about to blow, releasing America's smooth locks.

"God, America, please stop now!" Britain pleaded, not wanting to spill himself into America's unaware mouth. America, however, wasn't giving into the Brit's pleas. He knew what was coming for him, and he wanted it all. The older nation threw his head back with a long, almost agonized mian as his white candy quickly filled the American's pie hole. America skillfully swallowed every last drop of his and licked his lips in success.

"Bloody git," Britain said hatefully before pulling the younger nation more to him and began fumbling angrily with his shirt buttons.

"Woah, dude, slow down!" America warned him playfully and held both the Brit's hands together against the wall, "I'm not done with you." He allowed himself to undress his own self single handedly.

With the hand not holding the Brit steady, America jerked the older nation's leg up and forward, revealing the opening the American was most interested in.

"N-no! You can't just shove it in like that!" Britain screamed at him. America was one step ahead, and with a quick, dry thrust, he passed through the chain of aching muscles without a problem. The Brit groaned in the most painful way he thought he could manage.

"As you were saying?" America taunted, "I'll stay put a second for ya."

"Dammit! Are you tying to kill me!" Britain yelled outraged.

"Not rough enough I take it? Lemme try again," America extracted his own member from the Brit and positioned himself again. With another thrust, came another satisfying, yet painful moan from the older country. The younger country thrust up again. Britain cried in halfway delight and pain as he released himself again onto their stomachs. America took it upon himself to get in two more hard shots, and spilling deep into the Brit.

"Fucking bastard...I have never been in more pain than I am right now...And I will have you know, that I will replay you more pain than mine amounts to right now!"

"Harsh, British dude. You didn't holler at France like this," America halfway pouted as he gathered up his clothing.

"Get your ass out of my house! I do not wish to see your face around here again!" Britain pointed to the door.

"No."

"America, do not make me kick you out."

"You won't."

"America!"

"You wouldn't make France leave!"

Britain sighed and glared at the younger nation. How dare he manipulate his feelings like that! Especially after what he just did to him! Violating him like he was some toy, and then messing with his mind in such ways! What could he do though?

"Couch. My sleeping quarters are off limits for you, dammit. If you even try it, I will toss you out onto the streets!"

"Fine."

"I mean it!"

"I said fine!"

"That does not mean a damn thing."

"You wouldn't tell France no!"

"America..."

"It's true!"

"Only for tonight, dammit! And nobody hears a word of this ever! You hear me!"

"Yeah, yeah. Deal, dude."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for so many of these...but I quite like talking before every chapter! :D Anyway, introducing Mommy Britain! ^^ Chapter three, enjoy! Read;fave;reviewplz? (:**

"Get to the point!" Britain rolled his eyes. America was explaining about stopping deforestation, but not really getting too much explaining done. Nobody really wants to build a force field over every forest in the world to keep people from cutting and burning them down. Why? 1) that's impossible, 2) that's the most stupidest idea they've ever heard of.

"Do you have something else to say?" America asked.

"Like explaining your weekend?" France suggested with a smirk.

"I have nothing to share about anything, Frog Breath!" Britain snapped, taking a sip of tea.

"I beg to differ," America chimed in, having great fun hanging something over the Brit's head. The older country swallowed quickly, his stomach churning. Whether it was his new tea, or America's voice, but something had to cause his newfound sickness.

"Hell," Britain slapped his palm over his mouth and held his stomach.

"Somebody, get a bucket!" France jumped.

"Gross, dude! He's gonna blow!" America exclaimed.

"Ai-yah~! That's the last thing I wanted to see today!" China wailed, covering his eyes.

"I can pull out his stomach to further seize the scene," Russia offered.

"Of course not! You are not ripping out his stomach!" France cried. Britain stood up from his chair. France began to stand.

"Stay away, wanker!" Britain choked out and ran out of the room. America blinked in shock. France ran out after him.

Britain was leaning himself over a flowerpot and heaving heavily, "What is wrong with me, Francis?"

"I...," France gasped, first in embarrassment that turned into excitement, "I believe you're pregnant, Arthur." The first thought that crossed Britain's mind was "Who's baby is it?" France was already bouncing with his enjoyment. The second thought was "How the hell can I be pregnant!"

"I'm gonna be a daddy! I'm gonna be a daddy!" France jumped with joy.

"What's all the ruckus about?" America waltzed into the hallway, hands in his pockets. He smirked at Britain and his dirty little secret, and Britain returned the look with a glare.

"My, my!" America exclaimed, "Britain, you are certainly glowing! You must be expecting a little one soon! And who, might I ask, is the lucky father?" He leaned in closer with intrigue. _(Jordan makes him so mean! T~T)_

"That would be me!" France exclaimed proudly.

"Oh, really?" America antagonized, "Are you quite sure?"

"Absolutely! My little scone would never betray me!" France leaned in toward America, "What are you getting at, fatty?" France gritted his teeth, read to defend his baby mamma to the death.

"Oh, nothing. But your 'little scone' joined me for some tea the other day, and I might've slipped a bit of cream in his!" America laughed at his cleverness.

France looked at Britain, "Arthur? Please explain this diffusional crackhead's accusations!"

"Francis...," Britain reach out to his lover. France turned away. "He ambushed me. He did things to me I was unwilling to do as I was exiting the shower! I assure you it's not as it seems to you!"

"You weren't exactly stopping me though," America intervened, "You weren't protesting when you started undoing MY shirt. You wanted me, Arthur," America leaned in to whisper in the Brit's ear, "You still want me."

"Arthur!" France's face was streaked with hurt tears, "Tell me he's lying! Tell me you didn't!"

"Francis...," he paused, "I wish I could."

France bolted out of the manor in rage. America started stroking the tiny bump starting to form on Britain's front side.

"What should we name our little hero or heroine?" America was positive it was his. After all, he's more man than France would ever be. Britain swatted his hand away.

"You don't know it's yours."

"You're so cute when you're angry," America changed the subject.

America leaned in and down, his lips colliding with the older country's. Gently this time, but Britain pulled away abruptly.

"You can't just sweet talk me! Francis is the love of my life, and you've torn us apart for your own selfish pleasure," Britain sat down, feeling a little woozy.

"Bit what if I love you?" America asked.

"Alfred, please tell me you don't! I can't handle all of these feelings and emotions, especially right along with a baby, causing more stress. Most of all, I don't want to pick between you two. Because it will be him. It's always been him, Alfred.

"And if it's mine?" America asked.

"As far as France knows, it IS his child!" Britain snapped in rage, "And as far as I'm concerned, same goes for me, too!" Britain stood slowly, and turned away from the younger country, stomping out of the manor after France.

He was going to fix this.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: You guys probably hate me by now for taking soooo long to post new chapters. School's started, and between Marching Band, Student Council, School itself, it's just not happening. I'll post chapters ASAP! I promise! Anyway, Read, Fave, Review? :3**

Britain walked from the meeting house to France's faster than he ever could've thought possible. He was booking from the distant places. He knew France wasn't going to be very happy with him. He approached the door, and let his hand knock for him.

"Francis, dear, please...Stop being childish and open the door!" The door swung open, seemingly as if it had become ajar on its own.

"You have some nerve showing up here," France muttered from his position on the couch.

"Francis, I am positive it is your child!"

"Get away from me! Your lies aren't going to fix anything! You are the most vile person I have ever trusted! You cheated on me with HIM! Didn't I give you everything you wanted?" France threw the nearby flowerpot next to him at Britain's head.

"Fucking hell, Francis! You will harm the baby!"

"I don't want it! Not if there's even a slight chance it is his! I don't want you spouting your lies to me and I come to find out that it WAS his all along!"

"She's yours!" Britain sighed and prepared to lie to comfort his lover, "I was pregnant before America ambushed me in the bathroom." It was wrong to lie to France in this way. But what would he do without someone there to support him?

France gasped and took Britain in his arms, "But Arthur dear...Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure. I figured I better not get your hopes up if it was a false alarm or something." Britain sighed. He didn't want to lie to France, but he didn't want his baby to have a father like America either. So that was it. Francis WOULD be the father of his baby, whether it was his or not.

France and Britain sat on the couch in each others arms for the rest of the night.

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"What are we going to name him?" France and Britain were lounging on the loveseat.

"Ah...,well, I'm not even sure of the gender yet, Francis," Britain admitted, "You can't automatically assume it's a boy either."

"But I want a boy," France informed him.

"And what if we get a girl?"

"I'll love her just the same," France twirled his finger around his lover's now-growing baby bump.

"Well I'd hope so...," Britain flipped the page in his book.

"I don't like it when you read. You always ignore me," France pouted.

"Eh? I'm paying attention to you," Britain's eyes didn't leave the page. France tore the book from his lover's hands and locked his lips with the Brit. Britain wrapped his arms around France's neck and pulled him in closer. France moved his hands up the Brit's shirt, but Britain protested. With a shove, he broke up the funny business.

"We can't do that while our child is inside me!"

"My dear little scone, it will not harm him."

"Even with all the bouncing?"

"Absolutely."

"I'm not taking any chances, Francis, I'm sorry."

"Alright, but I will be so depressed," France sighed.

"Oh, Francis. After the child is born, we will every chance we get," Britain promised.

"Lovely." France gave Britain a kiss, then lifted him off of the couch.

"I really appreciate your wanting to help, but I can walk perfectly fine." Britain laughed.

"I don't want my little flower wilting." France carried Britain out to the fuchsia Porsche, and gently placed him in the passenger seat.

"Where are we going?" Britain asked.

"To the new cafe up town. I am craving a small slice of coffee cake, and maybe a scone for my scone?" France winked. Britain blushed.

They started down the road. The stopped at the red stop light just before it turned green. France pulled forward, and all of a sudden some dumbass redneck pulled his Fucking Ford straight into the side of the Porsche on France's side.

"Oh my God! Francis! Are you alright?" Britain began shaking France's shoulder vigorously.

"Dude, you scratched my paint!" An obnoxious voice shouted. Britain looked up. America smiled back at him.

"Sup, British Dude?" America strutted over to Britain's side of the car, wiping a bit of blood from his forehead.

"Get away, wanker! You just ran you fucking ford right into our car! France is hurt!" Britain yelled. The people around the crash were panicking and some dialing frantically on their phones.

"Our mini hero isn't hurt, is he?" America asked with little concern for France. Britain shoved the car door open and gritted his teeth.

"She isn't yours! I never want her to be yours anyway! You'd be an awful father to her! You already took my colonies from me, and France's territories from him! You're not taking our child away from us! I'm not even acknowledging you as an uncle! I forbid you to ever see her! Get lost and do not show your face around me, France, or our family!"

America stepped back, taken aback at the older countries' words.

"That's cruel, you know."

Please, your pain now isn't even close to all you've caused me." The EMT's arrived at the scene and carried France away, Britain sitting in the back with him.

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He is going to be just fine, " the doctor brought the relieving news to Britain. He gave out a sigh of relief.

"That's the news I was hoping for. Thank you," Britain stood up.

France was going to be just fine. Britain walked into France's room.

"Arthur, is that you?" France said, sitting up in his bed behind a newspaper. Apparently he wasn't too damaged if he is still able enough to sit up and read the paper...

"Yes, Francis. Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes. Don't worry. More importantly, is the baby alright?" he asked.

"The crash only hit you..The baby and I are fine," Britain assured him.

"Not him! How's my Porsche?" Britain gasped.

"How could you care more about a car than your own family!" Britain harped.

"Someone is clearly being affected by their pregnancy hormones." France laughed and threw the covers from himself, "I'm allowed to go. Let's get out of here. It smells like death."

They checked out of the hospital with minor bruises and went onto planning notification runs.

"Let's just have everyone come to the conference hall. Then we can tell them at the same time," Britain suggested.

"Of course, my little scone. Whatever you desire," France agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Merry Christmas! After 3 months! :D Don't throw rocks at me…..My internet keeps getting shut off, and now I'm involved in swimming and afterschool stuff….and I'm terribly sorry for my delay! SO! As a Christmas present to all of you, I'm updating 2 chapters! Yes, generous, I know. Thank me later! Read/Fave/Review? :3**

"Germany! Germany! Look at Britain! He's got a baby bump! Look, Germany!" Italy shook Germany and pointed.

"Italy, I see him! I assume that's what this meeting is about!" Germany was in a bad mood how it was, and with Italy jumping all over the place and being Captain Obvious, it just made him want to go to the nearest bar and just drink for days.

Everyone was in the meeting room, even America, sulking in the corner of the room in denial.

"Germany sure has the brains around here. Yes! It's true, Britain and I are having a baby!" France announced. _ DUN DUN DUN_~!

"Austria! Leave your damn piano out of this!" Britain's hormones raged over his actual mood. The room filled with murmured excitement.

"There's something else I'd like to announce!" France gathered everyone's attention.

"No there's not. We only came here to let everyone know about our little girl," Britain was clearly as confused and surprised as everyone else in the room.

"Well, at least I hope so," France took Britain's hands in his and knelt to the ground, "Arthur Kirkland, will you give me the honor of becoming Mrs. Francis Bonnefoy?" America looked up from his emo corner and stomped out of the room in outrage.

Britain hesitated for a moment, at loss for words, and then excitedly squealed, "Yes Francis!" Austria began playing the wedding march and everyone clapped. France took Britain's now ringed hand and pulled him from the conference hall. They had a wedding to plan.

A few weeks had passed, and Britain's belly and lack of patience with everything, mostly in terms of wedding plans, were getting bigger. He held his head in the palm of his hand and sighed in aggravation. He shoved some papers off of the table and slammed his head down.

France ran into the room, "Are you okay? I sweat I heard you fall!"

"I didn't fall. I'm just fine," Britain mumbled.

"What is the matter, my little scone? Why are you so upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"Yes you are. I know you're upset. Otherwise you wouldn't be angry and shove your papers off of the desk."

"I'm not upset, Francis, so it's probably better if you just drop the subject!"

"Somebody's hormones are getting to them. The baby doesn't like to hear you yell. He's getting bigger every day, you know." France pulled Britain up from his chair.

"Not like I chose to be this fat and this snippy with everyone," Britain commented.

"Ah, me amour, but you look so lovely when you're with child," France reassured him.

"I just want this damn thing out of me already!" Britain cursed. France was taken aback.

"Arthur! Do not speak that way about our child! He can hear you!"

"I don't give a bloody hell! All you care about is this baby!"

"Arthur, I care about you just as much." Britain held up his pointer finger and started to breathe heavily.

"She just bloody kicked me," Britain held his stomach and rubbed the bottom of the bump.

"He did!" France kneeled down and placed his ear against his lover's tummy, "Kick for daddy."

"Get up from there! She's not going to do it again!" France frowned and stood up.

"Why are you so angry?"

"You'd be angry too if you were walking around with a huge stomach, oversized clothes, getting kicked all day, getting whirling headaches, trouble getting up, and not getting any appreciation for all that you have to go through every single day!"

"Oh, my dear little scone. You have a long way to go yet." France kissed his nose.

"I want it out! I'll cut it out myself! I don't even want to be a mother anymore!" France grabbed Britain's shoulders.

"Please calm down, love. Do not harm our son because you're upset. If I could do pregnancy for you, I would. This will all pay off once you hold him in your arms, me amour."

"I honestly don't know if you are really the father!"

"Do not say that to me! You told me it was mine! Please say that hamburger gorging fat ass has no chance!" Britain crossed him arms and looked away from him.

"That'd explain why it's always kicking me. But trust me Francis; I want it to be yours. I just can't make a promise it's yours. But I am not letting that bastard be a father to her. And if you decide to leave me, I'll raise her myself."

"I'm not leaving. Sorry, but you're stuck with me no matter who the father of that little boy is."

"Good," Britain let out a sigh of relief.

"But I hope you won't mind staying home alone on the 10th."

"Why! Where are you going to be?"

"I'm having my bachelor party that day."

"Francis! We never spoke about this!"

"You can throw yourself a baby shower whenever you want, love. I'll stay home by myself one day. After our wedding you can have one whenever! I promise!"

"Then how about November 18th? That's a month before her due date."

"Arthur! You can't!"

"You said I could have it whenever!"

"Not on the day we celebrate a month after our marriage!"

"You said whenever!"

"Fine then…You're lucky I love you so much," France whined.

"Oh, Francis, don't be a child."

"Can we settle this in the bedroom?"

"You know my answer."

"But-"

"NO!"

"Fine…."


	6. Chapter 6

October 10th

The doorbell at France's house rang.

"Who's that Francis?" Britain wondered aloud. France had told him that someone was coming to pick him up. This same someone is whose bright idea it was to have a bachelor party in the first place.

"I'll just get it!" Britain rushed as fast as he could to the door and look out of the peephole, "America!" Britain hollered in outrage. America opened the door for himself, Britain stopping the door from swinging out and hitting him in his tummy.

"Sorry, British dude, didn't see you there."

"What the hell do you want, you bloody git?" Britain crossed his arms in an angry tone.

"Actually, I'm here for France," America smirked at Britain's obvious distain.

"I should've known something so grotesque as a bachelor party would be your idea!" Britain stomped into the living room and sat on the couch. America followed him in.

"Whoa, dude, you need to take a chill pill. Hormone rage much?" Britain sighed and ignored him. "Alright, that's cool. I just thought I'd let you know that the party is at a strip club." Britain looked up from the newest edition of "Mother Weekly" to scowl at him. France walked in the room and kissed Britain on the forehead.

"Orevwah, my popping little scone." And with that, they were gone. Britain decided to silently tag along. He got into France's Porsche and pulled out of the driveway after they had left the property, and kept a safe distance behind them so they couldn't see him in the car. He followed them, the baby kicking Britain's inside and making him slow down every time, but found America's big obnoxious truck parked right in front of the final destination: Chippendales.

"What!" Britain immediately started freaking out, managing to finally calm himself down by rationalizing with himself, "No, France wouldn't do anything America put him up to…." Britain thought to himself, "But I might as well go have a look and see anyway…."

"Ah, America….I'm not sure this is really what I had in mind," France became uncomfortable at the situation.

"What? Oh, well, you see, since you're gay and all, I found it fitting for you!"

"Do not call me that."

"Psh, don't be in denial, fag. We can go if you want. There's some other strip club down the way." France took a look around and caught sight of a lovely girl outside the club. America followed France's eyes.

"Come on," he said, pulled France up off the couch. It wasn't going to be too long before America's vile plan would come into action. A few drinks and France won't be able to help himself.

Perfect.

Britain couldn't help but get absorbed in the downtown district and the display and displays of baby clothing. Of course, weird looks and laughter were forwarded at him, but it's not like he cared.

"My, my, look at the time. I better check on Francis," he thought to himself. He hesitated to walk through the doors of the club. It would be intimidating to walk in there, with child, and wander aimlessly around. He swallowed his pride and passed through the doors. France's laughed was the first thing he heard when he entered the door.

He peeked around the corner, and saw them. France and a woman. His heart jerked a little inside his chest and the baby kicked at him, as if she knew what was going on. France was drink, but nonetheless knew what he was doing.

"So, this is what you do when I'm not around?" Britain crossed him arms over his belly and stepped in front of France. France gave a horrified look and dropped his glass.

"Britain….it's not what you're thinking!"

"Oh, so I'm imagining you on a couch-mind you, in a GAY bar-with a girl in your arm and hanging out with the man who's trying to break apart our family?"

"Well, you do imagine some crazy things, Arthur."

"So, I'm crazy now!" Britain gasped at him.

"Oh, darling," France gathered him in his arms and hugged him tightly, "You don't understand."

"Excuse me! I understand fully! In case you've forgotten, I'm a man, too!"

"But our son-"

"Daughter!" Britain corrected him for the hundredth time, hoping he'd actually get the hint this time. France froze in astonishment.

"It's a girl!" France asked with a hint of joy.

"I was going to tell you sooner, but you couldn't take hints and wouldn't stay around long enough for me to tell you."

"Oh, me amour! This is wonderful news! Come, I believe this party was a dud anyway," France gave a glare to America. Britain led him to the car.

"Did you drive here?"

"I followed you here," Britain said, getting into the passenger seat.

"Sneaky bastard," France smiled and got in the car.

"Francis, honestly, I only gave you a million hints. How could you not have gotten it?" Britain was trying to understand how France could be so oblivious.

"Does it really matter?" France asked rubbing Britain's stomach.

"I suppose not," Britain smiled, "What should we name her?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," France said.

"Well, I've got a few ideas: Edith, Eliza, Emma-"

"Arthur, she's not an old woman! I think we should name her Charlotte." France said.

"Oh! So she HAS to have a FRENCH name does she?" Britain asked angrily.

"Well, she is half French! If it makes you feel better you can give her a British middle name.

"Two." Britain said, with a pout.

"What's that, me amour?" France asked.

"Two BRITISH middle names!" Britain repeated himself.

"Alright my love. And what British names are those that you speak of? France asked curiously.

"Breanna- Rae," Britain said. France snickered. "What!" Britain glared.

"Nothing, my dear. Those are wonderful names."

"What's wrong with them!"

"Not a thing, me amour. I love them very much. I do like the flow of her name. Boys will absolutely love her!"

"That's not exactly a good thing, Francis. I honestly don't want males chasing after my daughter!"

"I'll beat him with a bat before he ever touches her," France promised, pulling into the driveway and stepping out of the parked car. He walked over to the other side, helping his popping butterfly from his side, and walking him in the house. Britain yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Ah, my lovely little scone. You must be getting to bed. Charlotte and you require much rest."

"Francis, it is barely 9 o'clock! And I doubt you've eaten anything."

"Dear, you do not need to cook. In fact, I'd much rather you didn't. I can make something myself. You need some rest."

"Francis-"

"Sh," France pressed a finger against his lover's soft lips, "need not say another word. Off to bed with you, love." France lightly pushed Britain's back towards the bedroom, "I shall join you in a while." And with that, France planted a sweet kiss on his lips and cheeks, sending his love off to bed.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS! I hope you don't mind, but I skipped the whole wedding and baby shower, seeming as I fail epically at writing such scenes. [as you've seen from my attempts at yaoi/lemons. -_-;;] I've decided I'm just going to type the rest of this pointless story whilst I have the free time to do so and be content with it! SO! Read/Fave/Review? :3**

-November 18-

"Oh, Francis! In just one month, our dear little Charlotte will be here!" Britain exclaimed excitedly while folding up new baby clothes. France was at work setting up a crib, after spending all day working on the dressing table.

"It was very courteous of Ukraine to spend her time to make Charlotte's blanket. And I do appreciate the Nordics providing her with so many outfits…," France commented.

"She's going to have a new outfit every day! We won't even need to buy anything for her until she's a year old," Britain grinned.

"Finland could have laid off of the pink, though."

"Yes, but Iceland could have quit buying her orange, too."

"She has clothes, so that's good enough for me."

"Why, yes, that's true-. Oh my…"

"What's the matter, my fragile little scone?" France was worried. Britain smiled with a hint of pain.

"Charlotte's just happy. Say hello to her." France smiled tiredly and sat in front of his month-old wife.

"Hello, darling. This is daddy. I know I can't see you, but I guarantee you're lovely just like your mother." Britain held France's hand and placed it on his stomach. Charlotte kicked against Britain's belly hard enough for France to feel her against his hand. He let a smile spread across his face in excitement.

"She kicked for me! I felt her!"

"That means she likes you."

"Well, I would hope she'd like me! I'm her father after all!"

"Yes, but today she kicked for Hungary in an instant." Britain stood up slowly and let out a sigh.

"Something the matter?"

"No…I'm just….happy, Francis. We're married happily, having a baby, and that stupid America isn't ruining anything! It's just so….perfect."

"Hm, I agree with that." France stood up and stretched.

"Charlotte and I are growing tired, Francis. We're going to head to the bedroom." Britain wrapped his arms around France's neck and kissed him.

"Yell for me if you need anything, my little scone."

"I shall."

Thanksgiving passed into the first heavy snowfall. The end of November welcomed two things. One was the first few weeks of December.

The cold December night was still. France was unusually restless that night, sipping his late-night coffee, and reading the mail that had came that day, glancing around the kitchen every now and then.

"Francis!" The sudden screech from Britain startled him, making him drop his coffee mug on the floor, coffee splashing all over the floor after the mug smashed into pieces. France scurried to get a towel and clean up the steaming coffee from the floor and pick up the mug pieces.

"Francis! I need you!" France cursed to himself, leaving everything how it was and stumbling quickly into the bedroom to see Britain clenching the underside of his busting baby bump.

"It is time! Is Charlotte ready?" France asked as he supported Britain's enormous belly with his arm.

"Well, Francis, I'm no rocket scientist, but I believe I'm sharp enough to know when a child is trying to come out of me!" The doctor had told the both of them about the difficult process the two of them would experience with Charlotte. He could birth Charlotte normally, but there was no saying whether or not it would work. His hips weren't strategically trained, let alone wide enough to birth a child, not to mention all the wrong parts were present on the Brit. A C-section was the only other option to bring Charlotte into their lives, but not completely safe for neither her nor Britain The idea had scared Britain before, but France had reassured him. Now, however, France was the scared one.

France dashed across the room and retrieved Britain's slippers, sliding them on his feet, then helping his lover stand up from the bed, "Come along, darling."

"Francis, don't forget her carseat. We cannot take her home without it. Don't forget her diaper bag either! That has her clothes and necessities in it!" France let Britain walk out of the house on his own while he went on a scavenger hunt in Charlotte's room for her diaper bag and carseat. He slung the bag over his shoulder and the carseat under his arm, snatching his phone up from the table on his way out the door.

He tossed the things into the backseat, and helped Britain get into the little car. Britain was going into hardcore labor. France immediately started freaking out when he got into the car and Britain's usually mellow, bitter personality unleashed into helpless, terrified screams and groans. He started the car and ripped from the driveway. Dangerous or not, he needed support, and he knew just who to call.

"Yo, sup dude?" The sleepy North American accent came through the phone.

"Alfred, Arthur has gone into labor. Go to the hospital with me! I'm freaking out, Alfred, freaking out! I don't know what to do!"

"Dude, calm down!" America said, "I'll meet you there."

Britain had been in the labor ward for a good four hours since they had arrived. The clock read 5:40 a.m. France paced himself around the waiting room. Obviously nervous, he kept glancing between the clock and the emergency doors. America, also there in his jammies, stayed seat in his chair in the corner.

A mid wife came through the doors and locked her eyes on France, "Arthur is ready to begin. He requested you in the room with him." France followed her back into the ward. Britain looked like he was in the most pain he could be in. The cloth on his forehead was cooling off his heated face, and his tears were streaming down both of his red cheeks.

"Arthur, are you alright?" Britain opened an eye to look at him.

"I'm hurting so bad, Francis. Don't let her die. Charlotte's too early, she's not going to be normal!"

"She's going to be fine, my love. Don't make the situation worse than it has to be."

Britain rubbed his eyes to stop the new tears from coming down, "I want her out! I feel like she's suffocating!"

"Can we start!" France yelled. The midwife hurried back into the room, positioning Britain just right for the baby.

"Alright, Arthur, let's begin."

The next hour was full of screaming, scurrying, and plenty of blood to make France almost faint. France's right hand was bruised from Britain's death grip. The baby wasn't moving right, and it was finally announced that she was being born breached, which caused ten times more chaos in the room.

"On more big push, okay? One, two three."

Britain used his remaining energy to crush France's hand and push against his will. Suddenly, all the pain was gone from him. But there were no cries. Only horror, and all hell broke loose.

"Somebody get an air tank! She isn't breathing!"

Britain's heart stopped. No way. Charlotte couldn't be dead! Britain didn't want to believe it. He slammed his head against the pillows and tears flooded down his face. France ran his thumb on Britain's soft, weak hand.

"I…..I'm so sorry, Arthur…"

"Francis….this can't be happening to us."

Britain's eyes fluttered open. As soon as the room came into focus, sadness overwhelmed him. He looked over at France, who was cradling and cooing to a bundle of blankets.

"Francis, what ever are you doing?" France smiled at him.

"Mama wants to see you, love," France kissed the bundle and set it gently into Britain's awaiting arms. Green eyes met green eyes as the blond-haired baby stared alertly as him.

"Francis…Charlotte! She's alive! Oh, how!" Britain planted sweet gentle kisses on the tiny infant's cheeks.

"She needed some blood as well as air. Luckily, someone donated some. They're the reason she's alive in your arms right now."

"And it saved her! Oh my good God, who!"

"Well, Arthur…" Without any further words, America walked into the room.

"What in the bloody hell do you want?"

"Arthur…it was Alfred who saved her life." France said calmly.

"What are you saying!"

"All I want is to see my niece and leave. My states need me back home," America sighed with courage.

Britain couldn't believe it, and he hesitated whether or not he would. He looked back down at Charlotte's emerald eyes. He eyes stared intently at him.

"No. I don't care if you saved her or not. You don't deserve to see her!"

"Arthur!"

"Francis! Have you forgotten the hell he's put us through?"

"So, after he saves our daughter's life, you shove him off? He didn't have to save her, Arthur, you should be grateful to him!"

"So, you're on his side now?"

"Arthur, Charlotte deserves to see the man who saved her life!"

"Drop it," America broke in, "I'll just leave. Good luck as parents, and congrats." With that, America left the room.

"He only wanted to see Charlotte."

"And I want us to stay a family, Francis."

"As do I," France sighed and put his hand on Britain's head, "That includes America. Like it or not, he deserves to be a part of Charlotte's life." France got up and left Britain alone in the room to think to himself.

"Well, my love….I'm not sure what to think," Britain admitted to Charlotte. The fragile baby's eyes drifted away into sleep. Arthur kissed her forehead and sighed.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N;; LAST CHAPTER! I love you guys, but this is it. And I never have to think about finishing this Well, me and Jordan are considering a sequel, but we don't want to bore you guys, so until further notice, this is all you're getting from us! Thanks for reading! Read/fave/review? :3**

"Arthur?" a voice woke Britain from his much needed sleep.

"Francis?" Britain said before opening his eyes to see America at his bedside.

"What are you doing here?"

"I…I just want to see her," America stated with true sadness. Britain saw the hurt and apology in his blue eyes behind his glasses. Britain had thought long and hard about this.

"Alright, Alfred….Alright." Britain took the little pink bundle next to him and handed her to America.

"Thank you!" America cradled Charlotte in his arms, "She's beautiful, Arthur." America was in awe at Charlotte's gleaming beauty. Britain smiled, America had joyful twinkles in his eyes, "I'm sorry." He paused and looked at Britain, "For everything. I should have never tried to tear apart your family, Britain…"

Britain smiled, "I do forgive you. You know, Alfred. I think Charlotte should see her uncle. She deserves to see you just as much as you deserve to see her. You belong in her life." America gave Charlotte back to Britain.

"Really? You mean it!" America was clearly thrilled. Britain nodded. America grinned.

"Well, see ya around, British dude" America winked and left the room. France entered.

"I am very proud of my little scone." France kissed Britain on the forehead. "Come along, lets go home."

Charlotte cried from the top of her lungs, her face beating red as a result from her excessive screaming.

"Arthur, the baby is crying for you!" France hollered from the couch.

"I'd like to know how you know she's crying for me. She does have a father, does she not?" Britain scolded as he picked Charlotte up from out of her crib and began rocking her as he was vacuuming the sitting room.

The doorbell rang.

"Oh, that'll be Alfred here to take Charlotte for a stroll." France got up to go to the door and swing it open.

"Alfred! Charlotte has been anxious for her stroll all day long!"

"Well, the hero of strolling has arrived!" America dashed into the house and swooped Charlotte from Britain's arms.

"Alfred! Do not scare me like that!" Britain screeched.

"Aw, come on, dude, that's no fun!"

"Be careful with her! Don't forget to cover her face from the sun! And make sure she stays warm! It is absolutely freezing out there!" Britain reminded him.

"Calm it, dude. I'll make sure of it." America began wrapped the blond-haired, green eyed bundle in long sleeved shirts and coats. Finishing off with two blankets covering her in the stroller. "She look warm enough?"

"Very. Have fun, and don't stay out too long! Be back by three!"

"Will do!" America exited the home with Charlotte.

Britain let out a sigh. France kisses his cheek and massaged his lover's shoulders.

"You know, everybody's gone now. We've some time to ourselves, you know," France trailed. Britain smirked sensually to him and took his hand, dragging his French husband back into the bedroom.

**Fin.**


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